


Cakewalk

by calescently



Series: A Long Week [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Cake, Blood, Established Relationship, Misgendering, Nonbinary Bucky Barnes, Other, Trans Female Character, Trans Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calescently/pseuds/calescently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Bucky broke someone’s nose was their 10th birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cakewalk

**Author's Note:**

> birthday licks: to deliver punches to someone on their birthday, often in the amount of the age they are turning, plus one (for good luck)

The first time Bucky broke someone’s nose was their 10th birthday.

The kitchen was grey and cramped and warm, bustling with birthday party guests: Mrs. Rogers, a crowd of neighborhood kids, and Steve. Steve stayed by Bucky’s side, a fixed point in the chaos. The kids crowded around a thick-frosted cake. It smelled heavenly. It read,

_Happy Birthday Bucky_

Mrs. Rodgers carefully lit ten green candles. “Bucky?” One boy snorted while Mrs. Rodgers put the matches away. Some kid from the Bronx, just moved to the block. “Bucky ain’t a girl’s name.”

Candle fire inched closer to the cake, like comets. Wax dripped, threatened to make craters in the frosting. Something ugly tried to burn its way out of Bucky’s chest.

“ _My_ name is Bucky.”

“Oh yeah?” The kid sneered. “Says you! I know what your _real_ name is.”

Mrs. Rodgers spoke, her voice gentle but stern. Probably telling Bucky to sit down.

“It’s— **wahhh**!”

Blood got on the cake. Bucky cried a little, after everyone was gone. Steve scraped the stained frosting off and they ate the whole thing together.

oOo

Almost a century later, Bucky is finally warming to the idea of birthdays. Mostly because Sam’s baking is ridiculously good. She stands by the door with a wry smile, raking fingers through soft, short-cropped hair.

“One day, Steve will finally learn that I can’t pull seconds out of thin air,” Sam grumbles from the door. She rolls her neck, stretches gently, elegantly. Compact cords of muscles dance along her arms and the movement makes her crop-top stretch across her chest, makes the red fabric lift up over her navel and cast teasing shadows Bucky can't help but watch.

“You sound smug,” they say mildly.

“Tch.” She rolls her eyes and joins Bucky, leaning against the kitchen island. A platter smeared with crumbs and creamy frosting rests behind them. “If either of you knew how to eat under 80 miles per hour in the first place, maybe I would be, yeah.”

Bucky leans right into her space, smirking. “You know I love it when you feed me.”

“Smartass!” Sam chides, shoving at their shoulder, but Bucky can _see_ the heat rushing to her cheeks. It’s easy to curl both hands around Sam’s firm waist and dip close, map Sam’s warmth with their lips. It always is, with Sam.

“Birthday,” Bucky breathes against her cheek. “You gotta be nice to me.”

“Maybe,” Sam huffs. She loops her arms around Bucky’s neck, relaxing into their arms with an effortless kind of trust that makes Bucky sigh, deep and full. Sam smells like sugar. “But if you keep it up, you’ll be getting birthday licks.”

It’s an empty threat... but a nice excuse. Bucky gives Sam’s hips a squeeze, and that’s all the warning the aviator gets before Bucky lifts her onto the counter, right beside the remains of the cake.

“Hey!” Sam squawks.

“You were saying?”

“Okay, you asked for this.” The words haven’t finished leaving her mouth before Bucky sees Sam’s hand approach, laden with frosting. She smushes it squarely and thoroughly onto their forehead.

Bucky glares.

Sam “actual Disney princess, certified goody-two shoes” Wilson takes one look and _howls_.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Your face!”

“My face,” Bucky agrees placidly.

Sam’s giggles die down, suspicion clouding her features. “What are you- ah!”

It’s nice, Bucky thinks absently, to finally taste what the goddamn crop-top has been teasing at. The frosting they've smeared under the curve of Sam’s small, soft breasts— always one of Bucky’s favorite places to taste— well, that's nice, too. Sam can give anyone a sweet tooth.

“Birthday licks,” Bucky hums.

“Pretty sure they don’t work like this,” Sam whines, fighting a smile and squirming _deliciously_.

“Sure they do.” Bucky grins, quick and sweet. “Hold still.”

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2's prompt. So short! Might add more to this one, idk.


End file.
